


Burn it Down

by 27dragons



Series: 27dragons' Tony Stark Bingo [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, You decide!, could be brotp or could be pre-slash, late night fire alarms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 22:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17857766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Tony’s made a breakthrough, and really, the fire was only a minor setback. His hallmates don’t see it that way. Peter thinks Tony’s hallmates are 100% dicks.(Tony Stark Bingo fill for Square: K5 - Peter Quill/Starlord)





	Burn it Down

Tony sat back from the computer and rubbed his burning eyes. He had no idea what time it was. The lack of light seeping in around the edges of his windowshade suggested “night”, but for all he knew, they could be in the middle of an eclipse.

Rhodey’s bed was empty, though he’d been staying over at Carol’s lately. Inconclusive. The general quiet of the dorm lent credence to the “night” theory, however.

“If only there were some convenient device for determining the relative position of the sun due to the Earth’s rotation,” he muttered.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids for a moment, then checked the progress bar on the computer screen. Almost done. He turned to look at the patiently blinking LED on top of the robot. Red. “C’mon,” he urged it. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, you can do this...”

Yellow. “That’s it,” Tony encouraged it. “You’re going to work this time, I just know it!”

The yellow light stopped blinking and went solid, and Tony held his breath...

...green.

“Yes!” Tony whooped and pumped his fist into the air. “You did it! It worked!”

Someone pounded on the wall and Tony heard a muffled, “Shut _up_ , Stark!”

Tony looked at the corner of the computer screen and winced. Yep, it was night.

“We’ll just have to celebrate quietly,” he told the robot. “And then possibly take a nap.” He stood up from his chair and the robot’s arm shifted, tracking Tony with its camera. “Oh my god, you’re really working,” he breathed. “Not that I had any doubts, because I _am_ a genius, but still, the heady exhilaration of creation -- hey, that rhymes-- Okay. Okay.” He backed all the way to the far side of the room, then held out his hands. “Come here.”

The robot didn’t move.

“No, no no, that’s definitely in your command set, you know this one,” Tony whined. “Come here!”

Nothing.

“Please?”

“Damn it, dummy, _come here!_ ”

The robot trundled forward.

“ _Yes!_ ” Tony remembered too late to keep his voice down. He cringed a little, and repeated in a whisper, “ _Yes!_ You did it! I did it! Oh my god, this is great--”

The ‘bot’s tread caught on a spare clothes hanger that was lying on the floor and dragged it up, where it collided with the soldering iron, knocking it off the table and into Tony’s trash can.

“Oops. Okay, we need to get you some kind of spatial guidance system, that’s okay, we can do that.” The ‘bot rolled up to Tony and Tony patted the strut of its arm like it was a dog. “You’ll get all the awesome upgrades,” he promised. “I’ve got so many plans for you, and-- What’s that smell?” He leaned to look past the ‘bot’s chassis.

The trash can was on fire. Because of course he’d left the damn soldering iron _on_.

“Damn it,” he sighed. “I really need to get one with a safety shutoff timer or something.” He climbed carefully around the robot and dashed for the bathroom. He filled a cup with water and ran back to dump it on the fire. Thank the gods for metal trash cans.

The fire flared and sputtered and then subsided. In its wake, a plume of smoke drifted upward.

“Oh, no, no, don’t-- Don’t do that!” Tony waved frantically at the smoke, trying to blow it toward the window. It swirled and eddied in the breeze of his hand, but continued its path. “No, no, no, not again, this is _not happening_ \--”

The rest of his words were drowned out by the fire alarm.

***

Peter had just gotten to sleep when the goddamned fire alarm went off.

“What the _fuck!_ ” He couldn’t even hear himself say it over the blare of the alarm.

Peter’s roommate -- a crazy-tall, skinny guy who went by the name of Groot -- rolled out of bed with a tired, resigned expression, slipped his feet into his shower shoes, and shuffled out, ducking as he went through the doorway because he was seriously _that tall_.

Grumbling, Peter climbed out of bed and threw on a tee and a pair of sweatpants. He put his earbuds in his ears and cranked up the volume until it almost drowned out the sound of the alarm. He shoved his wallet into one pocket and his keys in the other, and stumbled out of his room.

Shit, the noise was even louder in the hall. Peter didn’t think that was even possible. He couldn’t hear his music at all. He followed the other zombie-shuffling students out onto the lawn. Dey, the RA for Peter’s floor, started trying to shoo everyone across the street into the quad.

“What the hell, man?” Peter asked. “Bad enough we got rousted for a fire drill, now we gotta march, too?”

Dey frowned. “There wasn’t a fire drill scheduled. There was a real fire.”

Peter glanced back at the dorm. It looked fine. “Ugh, fine.” He slouched along, jogging a little to catch up with Groot and Groot’s friend Rocket -- if Groot was the tallest guy on campus, Rocket was the shortest, and they made a hilarious pair -- and the other assholes that Peter usually hung out with.

Everyone milled around on the quad for a while, speculating about the fire and complaining about their interrupted sleep.

“Who’s that?” someone demanded, and Peter turned toward the dorm to see a lone figure belatedly exiting the building.

“It’s Stark,” someone else said, and several people groaned.

Peter frowned. That was kind of rude.

Stark looked around, spotted the cluster of people on the quad, and headed their way, hands stuck in his pockets and shoulders slumped.

He hadn’t even finished crossing the street when a voice said, “I bet this bullshit was your fault, Stark! Fuck off!”

“Yeah! What the hell did you blow up _this_ time?”

“Go back inside and burn!”

Okay, now that was just too much. Even if the guy _had_ set off the alarm, that was not cool. Stark looked pretty bummed, too.

Peter shoved through the crowd, holding his hands up. “Yes, it is I,” he said loudly. “I’m the one who set off the fire alarm! With my terrible cooking!”

Amidst a chorus of groans and curses, Groot cocked his head, studying Peter curiously, because he knew damn well Peter didn't cook. But Groot was a cool guy, so he just shrugged and turned back to listen to whatever Rocket was talking about. Stark had paused on the outskirts of the quad, looking at Peter and frowning. But Stark’s hecklers had shut up, at least.

Stark came over, eyeing Peter warily. “Thanks.”

“Those guys were being dicks,” Peter said.

Stark looked past him, then made a face. “Most of them were from my hall.”

“Dude, that sucks.” Peter stuck out a hand. “Peter Quill.”

“Tony Stark.” Tony’s hand was warm, his grip firm and sure. “They weren’t wrong, though,” he mumbled. “It kind of was my fault. I blow up a lot of stuff.”

“Yeah?” Peter tugged Tony a little closer and threw an arm around his shoulders. “You should come hang out with me and my friends, then. Rocket loves blowing shit up.”

Tony was looking at him oddly again, but he let Peter lead him back into the milling crowd. “You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Peter said. “That’s why we call him Rocket.”

“You’re not doing yourself any favors,” Tony warned. “Not many people like me. If they think we’re friends--”

“Then they can kiss my ass,” Peter said. “Come on, come tell us what you blew up, and I guarantee, however dumb it was, Rocket’s got a story that’s twice as dumb. And you can crash with me and Groot until your hallmates get over it and stop being such dicks.”

“Yeah?” Tony looked tentatively hopeful, and Christ, it was breaking Peter’s damn heart. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” Peter pulled out an earbud and offered it to Tony. “You like music?”


End file.
